


I Can't Actually Post The Name of This Fic Here Because It Isn't Clean

by lilyrose225



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Mace Windu Unf-s The Timeline, copious amounts of cussing, the author may regret everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyrose225/pseuds/lilyrose225
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From suzukiblu on tumblr.  Sometimes abbreviated as MWUTTL.</p>
<p>Basically, the story of how Mace Windu accidentally goes back in time and fixes all the things.  Plus a lot of cursing.  Seriously, I've run out of new curses to use.  "I had a vision" becomes a mantra.  There are lots of windows and space ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: It's Mace Motherfucking Windu, he can do whatever the fuck he wants  
> (OR: Mace Windu Unfucks The Timeline)
> 
> Meta created by suzukiblu on tumblr.  
> Unbetaed.
> 
> Please enjoy.

_Of all the Sithfucking, motherkriffing--_ went Mace Windu’s internal monologue as he fell from a window of the Senate building.  Specifically, the window of the Chancellor's office.  This was entirely ridiculous, and without a doubt the most embarrassing way to go for the Head of the Order.  He was falling, minus a couple extremities, no lightsaber-- _Your life, this weapon.  Do not lose it--_ and it was Hutt-sucking _Skywalker's_ fault--

_Damn, of all the karking days to trust the kid an inch_ , was perhaps his last thought before he felt quite a jolt, and sat up straight in his Council chair.

In the next moment, he purposely relaxed and warded off Adi's alarmed look.  Shields up, he calmed his pounding heart.  _What.  The fuck.  Was that._

_All, well is?_ came the question from a serene-looking Yoda next to him, the tiny motherducking troll carefully not looking at him.  Damn, what a dilemma.  If he told the green gremlin the truth, the next steps would include a fuckton of tea, but if he lied and was found out, it would be a fuckton of tea and a lot of disappointment.

Lying it is.

_Yeah.  Shatterpoint._   Luckily, this would ward off interest for a bit.  Hopefully Yoda would fall asleep in a bit and the meeting would go on.

Speaking of which, what was this meeting about?  Was he actually in a Council meeting?  _Of all the things to see after death…_ Maybe this was a Sith hell.  Then again, he didn't think he'd done anything bad enough to get tossed into one, but--

The doors opened, and in stepped Qui-Gon Jinn, followed by Kenobi, Padawan Years, and-- _oh, of all the Force-loving--_

Fucking Anakin Skywalker.  Bite-sized.  This was definitely a Sith hell.

 

 

He remembered this particular Council meeting, if only vaguely.  Jinn swanned in, ducklings in tow, made a fuss, gave a minimal report, made senseless proclamations, insulted his Padawan, claimed a child he shouldn't have, and swanned back out.  There, that about summed it up.

Mace's feelings on the matter were better summed up with about a dozen words he heard his gramma say once.  It didn't translate to Basic well.

Qui-Gon was speaking, probably giving his report.  Mace didn’t care; his old friend could go fuck himself.  Hell if Mace was letting him screw up everything good in his life.  Again.  That is, if he could change this and alter this reality he was in.  Was this only a vision?

Yoda was speaking, asking Skywalker a question.  He tuned the troll out too.  The question was, did he have to stick with what happened and watch everything fall apart again or could he skip all that shite?

Mace tuned back into the conversation, recognizing the moment--this was his turn to speak.  _“The boy will not be trained.”_   Yeah, he could do that.  Or not.  He stood up instead and paced three steps forward, dropping to kneel in front of the boy.

The small _thump_ echoed oddly in the suddenly still chamber.  Thirteen pairs of eyes burned holes in him but the only pair that was important at the moment was the fourteenth, looking at him wide-eyed under sandy blond hair, now at eye-height.  _Well kriff them._   They’d made that mistake once before, he wasn’t going to make it again.  Besides, who could say no to that insanely endearing face?

_Fuck._   He was screwed.

“First of all,” he told mini-Skywalker, “you call no one in here ‘Master.’  You can call anyone ‘sir,’you can call me Mace, but I don’t want to hear Master anybody pass your lips until you can say it and not think of slavery.  We clear?”

He could practically feel the confusion radiating off the kid.  “Yes, sir,” came the answer.

“Good.  Now, what do you know about Jedi?”  It was a strange question to the rest of the Jedi in the room, but he needed Skywalker to understand what he was getting into.

“Jedi are heroes.  They go around the galaxy and save people,” Skywalker answered, and yep, that was what Mace was worried about.  He didn’t understand what they actually did, just the normal public perception.  Mace sighed.

“Yes, that is true.  Sometimes we save people.  But we can’t always.  And we also have to go where we’re asked for help, not just where people are suffering.  Do you understand?”

The child nodded, but Mace was fairly sure he didn’t quite get it.  _Kriff_.  “This means that sometimes we have to give up on people or causes for the greater good.  Sometimes we have to do things we would rather not.  Sometimes--” _fuck,_ he was not prepared to be explaining this to Skywalker.  How the Sithspitting hells did Kenobi ever do this?!? “--you have to make difficult choices between people you care about and your mission.”  And now Mini-walker seemed to get it, an uncomfortable look growing on his face.  “Do you want to be a Jedi, even though it means you **will** have to give up your attachments?”

Skywalker opened his mouth to speak, but Mace cut him off, raising a finger into the air.  “Don’t just say yes.  Think about it for a moment.”  And, miraculously, he listened and actually used his brain.  _Thank all the Hutt-spawned little gods._   After a moment, the kid refocused and looked solemnly at Mace.

“Yes sir, I still want to be a Jedi,” he said sincerely.  Mace raised an eyebrow and he twitched a bit, but didn’t back down.  Whatever.  They’d work on it later.

He opened his mouth to tell Skywalker he could join the other Initiates in the creche.  “Anakin Skywalker, would you like to be my Padawan?”  Wait.  Shit.  What did he just say.  What just came out of his mouth.  And even worse--the kid was practically kriffing _glowing_ , what the actual fuck!

“Yes, Mas--yes, sir!  I’ll be the best Padawan ever, I promise!”  Oh sweet Force and all the ever-loving--the kid was just too earnest.  _He’ll be the death of me.  Oh, wait--_

Whatever force was in charge of his body seemed to know what it was doing, because he found himself responding correctly, with no additional hesitation.  “Then I take you as my Padawan learner.  We can discuss all your responsibilities and what you need to learn later.”  With that settled, he stood up and brushed off his knees, repressing a groan.  He didn’t have all the karking aches and pains from the Clone Wars in this ridiculous hallucination, but he still had a headache.  He really needed to pass on his Council seat.

Speaking of which...the Council itself was still dead silent, eyes boggling out of their heads.  He huffed out a breath, exasperated with them, and motioned to Skywalker.  “As a Council Padawan, you stand to the right of my chair when you’re in a session,” he said quietly, and the kid nodded his head enthusiastically and started bouncing on over there.  Halfway between, he seemed to realize this was not sedate Jedi behavior and slowed down to a walk, taking his place behind the chair.  After a moment, he squinted at Kenobi and crossed his arms in the same manner.  It was ridiculously cute.  Not that Mace was watching too closely.

Jinn was frowning, one hand frozen on his beard.  And then he dropped it, stuck his hands in his sleeves in that classic fucking pose of his, and took a breath to speak.  “Oh, really?”  And then he shrugged, the fucker.  “Now, about that other matter...?”

Mace shrugged.  “Padawan Skywalker can stay here while we discuss.  As far as I'm concerned, both he and Padawan Kenobi should be informed.”

Said Kenobi stiffened and glanced at Jinn, then resumed his perfect Padawan pose.  Mace considered his friend for a moment—yeah, he could definitely see where the older Obi-Wan had developed his sabaac face and excellent arguing-with-Council skills—er, that is, bad habits.  He grinned internally; it was funny to see this kid version of his friend again, all anxious and stressed by what his Master might say in front of the Council.  If only he knew that someday he’d be just as bad as Jinn.

“So then, about the Sith…?” Qui-Gon Jinn asked.

“The being you _claim_ is a Sith,” Eeth Koth interjected, and Jinn frowned thunderously.

Oh yeah, this attitude again.  Mace had almost forgotten about that.  _Fuck you, Eeth._   “Whether this Darksider is a Sith or not,” Mace stated, “he is still quite dangerous.  You say you had trouble fighting him, Master Jinn?”

Qui-Gon bowed in his direction slightly, apparently sensing Mace was going to take his side.  Ha.  As if.  “Yes, Master Windu.  The being attacked out of nowhere and was difficult to fight, the landscape and heat of Tattooine notwithstanding.  I believe it was highly trained in the Dark Arts.”

Mace nodded.  “Then the Council will send additional Jedi with you and Padawan Kenobi, should Queen Amidala choose to return to Naboo.  If that is all, then I believe we should adjourn this session,” and he moved to get up before being frozen by a glare from Yoda.  _Sithspit_.  He nodded to the two of them before they moved to leave the chamber, and turned to his new responsibility.  “Padawan, you may follow them and get lunch from the commissary.  The Council needs to discuss a few more things before we’re done.”  And judging by the looks he was getting from his fellow Councilors, there were _quite_ a few things which needed to be discussed.  Oh well.  Fuck that noise.

As soon as the door was closed, all eyes were on him.  “Additional Jedi, we will send?” Yoda asked mildly.

Mace sighed internally.  “Qui-Gon Jinn is one of the Order’s best duelists.  If he could not defeat the Darksider—and I will not say it was a Sith—when in not-ideal conditions, then it is a significant threat to be reckoned with.”  His colleagues hummed in the Force with both agreement and ambivalence.  Shit, how blind they all were!

Adi Gallia was the next to speak up.  “And what about taking Skywalker as your Padawan?  We discussed earlier about the danger he represents, as he is too old.” _and full of anger and fear_ , was the unspoken addendum there.

This time, Mace shrugged.  “He is more dangerous left untrained by the Order or to fend for himself.  He was a slave on Tattooine—are we heartless enough to send him back there?”  And perhaps that was a little too far, as he felt surprise echo through the Force.  _We aren’t unfeeling_ , he thought.  _And you fuckers would understand better if you all knew how much less serene you are in wartime._

“Well, you are?” asked a frowning Yoda, and agreeing concern came from the rest of the Council.

_I have all my kriffing body parts, so yes_.  “Perfectly fine, Master Yoda,” he said.  “Now, are we done?  I have a Padawan to bond with.”

The impatience was getting him nowhere, it seemed.  “Responsible for your sudden changes in opinion, what is?”

Mace ground his teeth together.  _Fuck.  This._   “I had a vision,” he gritted out, and then stood and walked out of the Council chamber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole time travel thing is apparently really bad for Mace’s reputation. I mean, it’s only a matter of time before he gets _caught_ doing something ridiculous, right?

Mace Windu was three paces outside the Council chamber when Depa Billaba caught up with him.  _Damn_.

“So, Master,” she began, falling into step.

“Master Billaba,” he responded, speeding up ever-so-slightly.

“A new Padawan, huh?” she enquired, moving faster to match.

He raised an eyebrow—the side she was on, of course.  _The hell with it_.  “I had a vision.”

She raised an eyebrow (the side he could see, of course).  “A vision, you say?”  Depa somehow got in front of him, halting their forward progress.  And there—shit, there was that face he could never say no to, the one that was so much more effective than even Yoda’s gimmer stick.

Mace Windu, Head of the Jedi Order and accomplished Jedi Master, broke.

“I’m not entirely sure I’m not dead and in a Sith hell, but if not this is the longest vision I’ve ever had.” Oops, kriff, he did not mean to spill the whole story—but then again, this was a very long, vivid hallucination…

Almost like it wasn’t one…

Mace was starting to get the feeling that maybe, _maybe_ this wasn’t a vision after all… _Fuck_.

Depa nodded, tapping one hand to her chin.  Thinking mode activated.  “Well, Master, that seems like quite an interesting proposition.  I am fairly sure I myself am alive and if I’m not mistaken,” she reached out and poked him, and Mace was so startled by it he let her, “you seem to be alive as well.”  She looked at him expectantly.

He shrugged helplessly.  “The last thing I remember, I was falling to my death in evening Coruscant traffic.”

Depa’s eyes widened.  “That could certainly affect your view of things.  Why were you falling?  Couldn’t you have grabbed onto something?”

“I had no hands.”

She seemed to have no words to answer him.  “How about you start from the beginning, Master?”

Mace hesitated.  “I can explain, but I do not think I can tell you everything, there is too much of it.  Let me sum it up.”

Depa waited patiently as he organized his thoughts, taking his arm and guiding them to sit on a bench.  _Kriff, what do I tell her?  Everything?_

He took in a deep breath.  “Jinn claimed Anakin then went back to Naboo and got himself killed by a Sith Apprentice.  Kenobi was Knighted and took Skywalker as his Padawan.  Chancellor Palpatine creeped on the kid for years and eventually turned him to the Dark Side.  There was also a war between the Republic’s clones and the Separatist movement’s droid army, created during the Naboo crisis.  The Chancellor turned out to be Darth Sideous and I was unhanded and defenestrated and then I woke up here.”  He thought about mentioning her Fall, but decided against it.  It was…still quite painful to him.

Depa was silent, taking it in.  “So, if that’s the short version, what’s the long one?”

Mace thought for a moment.  “Over ten years of Council dumbfuckery.  I swear, the only thing that changed were the names making the stupid-ass decisions.”  He paused, mulling it over.  “Except for Obi-Wan, he made some good decisions over the years and talked everyone out of some of the worst of it.  Except for that Rako Hardeen bullshit, he should have just murdered us all for that.”

She looked amused, eyebrows raised.  “Wow Master, it must have been pretty bad if you’re cussing out loud.”

Mace looked up at his former Padawan and blinked.  “What?”

Depa shook her head.  “Never mind.  Well, now that you’ve outlined that…”

Then, they spoke at the same time.  “I think I’m in the past.”

“I think you’re in your past.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

She seemed to do a double-take.  “Wait, _Chancellor Palpatine_?  Valorum is still Chancellor currently; the vote to elect the new chancellor is tomorrow morning!”  And then the rest of his summary of events seemed to hit her.  “They elected _the Sith Master_ _into office_?!?”

Mace frowned, slightly distracted.  “Yeah, I’m still trying to figure out how all of the shit just slid right off of him and onto other Senators.  I mean, charges of corruption didn’t exactly go away.”

She looked stunned.  “Alright then.”

Mace scrubbed a hand over his face and then scalp, and then looked at it.  At both of his hands.  Man, you never really appreciate what you have until it’s gone.  Fierfek, had he ever impressed that upon Depa?  “Depa, hands are beautiful.  Don’t ever take the handy things in life for granted.”  She glared at him, unimpressed with his appreciation of hands.  “I’m serious, Depa.  I never realized how Attached I was to my hands until I lost them.  I have to hand it to you, even Jedi Masters can forget that some things are transient.”

“You think you’re so clever,” she told him in the driest of voices.  He shrugged; there would be plenty of time in the future to help her appreciate her hands.  “Right.  So now that we’ve got that figured out,” Force bless this woman, so practical.  He’d _missed_ her these past few years and hadn’t even let himself feel it.  “What are you going to do about it?”

“Go to Naboo,” he said promptly.  “Have to keep Jinn from getting himself killed.”

Depa frowned.  “Okay, but what else aside from that?  That can’t be the only change you can think of to make right—“ she cut herself off as he sucked in a sudden breath.  “What?”

“Palpatine isn’t Chancellor yet,” he said very slowly, staring into the middle distance.

“Well, yes, that’s true, but what does that have to do with—“

“Bail Organa is in the running,” Mace told her, wide-eyed.  He held still for a moment as Depa seemed to force her mind to change tracks suddenly, thinking up a plan.

“Okay, I’ll admit, he’s young but he seems to be a good man—“

“Depa, you are brilliant,” he breathed, and dragged her into a tight hug before running off to—no, striding, Jedi Councilmembers don’t run—the commissary.

“Thank you, Master,” her voice followed him, sounding quite a bit bemused.  “Good luck with whatever it is!”

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was brilliant.  Mace remembered exactly how much he respected the guy as he inspected his new Padawan’s food tray and found it relatively palatable and very nutritious.  Good, Skywalker was a skinny, shrimpy little thing, he needed the food…and was apparently getting it, judging by the way he seemed to be inhaling it.  Mace winced.  Kenobi simply looked astounded, and Jinn—well, Qui-Gon Jinn wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings, just to a pad with a recap of some Senate fuckery.  Mace was sure Obi-Wan could dance naked in front of him and he’d just say ‘yes, very good Padawan.’

Hmm.  That…was an interesting thought.  How much did Jinn know about his own feelings?

“Slow down, Padawan,” he told Skywalker.  The kid ‘eeped’ and swallowed hurriedly, turning to face him as he sat down.

“Sorry Mast—I mean, sir,” he amended at Mace’s raised eyebrow.  This would be good, if only for the fact that he could get the brat to correct himself with just an eyebrow.  It boded well for the rest of the apprenticeship.  “Do you need anything?”

“No, continue eating,” he said, waving a hand.  “You need your strength.”

“Okay!” he said, and went back to rapidly consuming food.  Mace winced again.  That part might take some work.

He looked across the table at Obi-Wan, whose food was sliding off his fork as he stared at Anakin.  “I see he found the food pretty well, Padawan Kenobi.”

His friend looked alarmed at the somewhat conspiratorial tone, dropping his fork in shock.  “Ye-yes, Master Windu.”  He shook himself, regaining some of that calm demeanor.  “It has been a long day for us, Master.  Shipboard time was several hours off from Coruscant time, so it has been quite a long time since lunch.”  Mace grinned internally at this reaction.  It had been a long time since—oh, well, now.  Time travel was confusing.  Anyway, it had been a long time since Mace had seen Kenobi easily flustered by a Councilmember.  His Jinnfluence must not have been complete at this point in time.

Mace corrected himself.  Knighthood might have been what gave Obi-Wan his gravity, but it must not have come easily.  They had failed him in his early years, done a disservice as he took on a Padawan with no support from his elders.  It wouldn’t happen again.

But right now, he had a Padawan to see to.  “Padawan, how good are you at writing code?”

Skywalker swallowed, thankfully, before answering.  “I’m pretty good at it.  I wrote a bunch of C3PO’s code to integrate the new protocol and language software better.  What do you need?”

Mace stared.  C3PO, he remembered that name.  Aw hell no--not that protocol droid, the really annoying one?  “C3PO?” he asked, aware that he was not supposed to recognize the name.

“Oh!” Skywalker said, and blushed.  “Sorry sir, C3PO is the protocol droid I built to help my mom!  He’s really amazing and I almost finished him before I left.”  Even in his excitement, he deflated a bit, probably thinking about home.

“That is...good, Padawan.”  Shit, how do you give a kid a compliment?  How do you cheer small people up?  “You should be--” what?  Proud?  No, he can’t say that, he might be encouraging a fatal flaw.  But what else do you say?

“--happy,” Kenobi finished for him, looking at Mace with a flat, unimpressed glance.  Mace projected thankfulness and relief back at him.  Luckily, Skywalker was too busy beaming and being excited to notice his slip-up.

“Thanks, Mas--sir!” he chirruped.

Mace rubbed his forehead with one hand.  He had a headache.  “Just call me Mace, Padawan.  They sound too similar.”

“Okay then Mace!” and oh, now he was grinning and projecting happiness into the Force and his emotions were spilling everywhere, and how could anybody be angry or fucking upset with him?  Mace felt his headache melt away.

“Yes, well, good.” he coughed into one hand.  “Now, are you finished with lunch?  We need to go perform espion--I mean, form a training bond,” he amended at Kenobi’s intrigued look.

“Yes, sir Mace!” Anakin said, and proceeded to mow down the rest of his food.  Mace avoided Obi-Wan’s eyes until they got up and left.

They were walking away from the table when Mace heard Qui-Gon say behind him, “Huh?  Obi-Wan, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Master,” was Kenobi’s long-suffering sigh.

 

“Mas--Mace, where are we going?” Skywalker asked as they headed for the Temple entrance.

“Secret mission,” he replied, distracted.  _But will fucking this up actually fix anything?_

His Padawan’s eyes widened.  “Oh, wow.  But what are we doing?”

Mace stopped in his tracks, turning and looking down to meet his eyes.  “Um.”  Oh hell.  What was he doing?  This version of Skywalker was small and untested, untrained--then again, the first time around he managed to destroy a droid control ship without instruction, but on the other hand that was one of his specialties, flying, and Mace had no clue how much to do with this the kid had experience in and--

“Mace?” he asked in concern, tugging with one hand on the Master’s outer robe.  It certainly quieted the internal monologue.  “Is everything alright?  Do you have a plan?”

He opened his mouth to reply, and the words felt leaden.  “No, there is--no real plan, no.”

Skywalker nodded solemnly.  “Okay then.  So what do we need to do?”

Mace fidgeted.  Strange; he thought he’d grown out of that kriffing habit ages ago.  “We need to-to…”  His Padawan looked at him encouragingly.  _Bantha turds_.  He dropped to his knees next to the kid so he could whisper to him.  “We need to sabotage one of the Chancellor candidates.”

His eyes grew so wide Mace worried for a moment they’d pop out of Skywalker’s head.  “Oh.  Isn’t that illegal?”

Mace twitched to one side, eyes sliding away from his Padawan’s guiltily.  “Well, yes...but so is podracing.”  He met Skywalker’s eyes again, folding his arms and taking on a most serious face, nodding.

Skywalker folded his arms as well, stroking his chin like Jinn.  It was ~~very adorable~~ quite funny to see the mannerism copied on a kid who wouldn’t have chin hair for half a decade.  “So how are we doing it?”

Mace may or may not have stared at his Padawan.  What the fuck?  Any normal kid--any _Jedi_ kid, even--would _not_ just agree straight off to this.  Well.  Kriff it.  “I was thinking we could plant something scandalous.  Something relatively believable that is just enough to sour public opinion of him.”

“Okay,” Skywalker readily agreed.  “Like porn?  That seems to be a way to catch a sleemo.”

Mace stared again.  Oh, right.  Tattooine.  “That sounds fine, I suppose.”

The kid looked at him for a long moment.  “You don’t do things outside the law often, do you?”

Was he staring yet again?  Probably.  “Nnnoooo,” he said slowly.  “Usually I use my reputation as a Jedi Master to get things done.”

Skywalker nodded.  “Alright then.  Here’s what we’ll need…”

 

_What the fuck_.  Mace’s new Padawan knew _entirely too goddamn much_ about breaking the law.

They were standing outside Senator Palpatine of Naboo’s office, with newly-minted Padawan Skywalker doing…something to the lock on the door, and Master Windu, Head of the Jedi Order, standing to the side and glaring.

They were going to get kriffing caught.  Mace was sure of it.

“Are you almost done, Padawan?” he asked anxiously.

“Got it!” the kid said, and the door slid open.  They piled inside and closed it, relocking it.  “How does the light look on that thing?”

Mace peered down at the “scrambler” in his hand.  Honestly, it looked like a fucking mess of tangled wires, but Skywalker swore up and down it would mess with any electronics in the area.  “The light is still red.”

“Wizard!” was the answer as Skywalker darted over to the terminal in the corner of the room, ready to program some sort of virus to enable huge auto-downloads of porn of all types.  From the rather nonsensical description the kid had given (interspersed with snatches of the actual code he was writing), the algorithm looked specifically for taboo acts, interspecies pairings, and various other media outlawed on several planets.  Hopefully, this would be enough.

“Want a hand?” he asked, and then froze.  _Oh shit oh shit oh shit don’t mention the prosthetics—_

Skywalker grinned at him, adorable face lighting up again.  “Nah, Master—um, Mace.  I got this.”

Mace nodded solemnly.  “Alright then.  I’ll go and…watch the door…”

Damn.  The kid still had both his hands too, he’d forgotten.  _Dodged a blaster bolt there_.

Ever since they entered the Senate building, Mace had been shielding Anakin in the Force.  This turned out to be, if he could say so himself, and excellent motherfucking decision, as he could feel the _kriffing Sith Lord coming closer to them, he was right there Mace could end this right here and now—_

But no.  There had been eight of them last time and Mace was about to die even without Skywalker jumping in.

“We need to get out of here, Padawan,” he said, looking around the room and thinking quickly.  His eyes alighted on a possibility.

“Okay, Mace!  Just one more thing!”

“Anakin, now.  Someone is coming.”  He moved to the window and unlocked it, swinging it open to gaze down at the side of the building.  _Ah-ha._   There was a ledge below them about three floors down that would do nicely for a first landing.  “How do you feel about heights?”

Anakin zipped the bag of tools closed.  “No problem.  Are we using the window because of your name?”  He grinned up at Mace, reaching with both arms to clasp around the Jedi Master’s neck as Mace picked him up.

“Ha.  Ha,” Mace deadpanned, but sent warmth to his kid through the Force.  With Anakin held to him, the height seemed even greater and the jump more dangerous.  Mace hugged onto him just a bit tighter.

And then he took a deep breath before jumping, his Padawan whooping in delight in his arms.

At least he had both hands this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual plan/summary for this chapter (written at 2 AM when lily really needed to get to sleep):
> 
> -“no there is too much, let me sum up”  
> -“o shit” ~Depa  
> -“I think I’m in the past o shit”  
> -“so what r u gonna do ‘bout it?” ~Depa  
> -“o shit palps isn’t chancellor yet”  
> -find Ani in dining hall  
> -“do u kno how to rite code?”  
> -sneaky sneak into Senate-->senny palp’s office  
> -plant incriminating evidence  
> -“o shit some1’s coming”  
> -WINDOW  
> -“Mace, why WINDOW?”  
> -“my name Mouse Window”  
> -[REDACTED]  
> -…profit?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Master has given Dobby a sock!”
> 
> This is some Assassin's Creed level shit here, but everybody should know that Mace isn't cut out for it. Yet.

Mace wanted to say that it was a graceful fall out of the window of Senator Palpatine's window, but it wasn't.  He wanted to think that it was controlled, but in all honesty _it kriffing wasn't._   It was more like...about ten seconds of absolute terror and insanity until his feet met the thin ledge, his Padawan whooping in his ear the whole way down, and then a new problem presented itself--where the fuck to from here?  He had hands, sure, _but it wasn't like they were free!_ And he wasn't about to drop Anakin to grab the ledge or any other handholds, because who KNEW what in the Force had caused him to Fall to the Dark Side in the first place!  Dropping him off the Senate building wasn't an auspicious start to their relationship!

 _It's fine, I am a Jedi_ , he told himself calmly.  Okay, maybe a little less than calmly.  Alright, _fine,_ Mace Windu, Head of the Jedi Order, was _fucking terrified_.  _This is why Sith-spawned Qui-Gon Jinn goes on all of the active missions and I don't!_   No wonder why Kenobi and later Skywalker had been adrenaline junkies, it was in their lineage!

...So what did that say about Dooku and Yoda?

 _We have to get out of sight lines from Palpatine’s window._ Easier fucking said than done.  He took a breath and consulted the Force on what to do next.

There was no answer.

 _Okay then…_   He was not going to panic.  He was calm.  Jedi are always calm.  He was— _oh Force fuck a Sith, why the HELL is this the time for the Force to be dammed silent!_

He got the feeling it was laughing at him.  No beating around the bush then—he hefted Anakin a bit in his arms to resettle his kid, took another breath, and started running.

 _Fuck.  Fuck.  Shit!  Fuck—oh Force, why did I think this was a good idea?_   Because, of course, he was running along a thin ledge just big enough to put one foot in front of the other, slowly making their way around the Senate building, jumping down a couple floors every so often.  Mace dropped down and twisted in midair using the Force to perform a switchback—he didn’t want to wind up at the front of the building, there would be too many people there.  He would prefer to keep as many people from seeing him as possible.

He could just imagine the headlines now:  JEDI MASTER SEEN PARCOURING DOWN SENATE BUILDING.  It wouldn’t quite be conducive to keeping what they’d done a secret.

When they finally made it to solid ground on Coruscant’s top level, Mace put his Padawan down—gently!—and sort of bent over to put his head between his knees.  _Never again.  Never.  Fucking.  Again.  I swear to all the Sith-be-dammed Force-gods, I am never jumping out that window—_

“Are you alright, Mace?” asked a chirpy little voice, sounding quite concerned.  Oh, right.  Anakin.  Who was…looking at him while bent over himself, head upside-down as well.

Mace took a deep breath.  “I am fine, Anakin.  Why?”

Anakin shrugged.  “Well, it’s just that, people are starting to stare.”

 _Kriff_.  “Well, why are they staring?”

“I think it’s because they’ve never seen a Jedi out of breath before,” he said matter-of-factly.  “I’ve only seen it because of the black man who chased Master Qui-Gon around back on Tattooine.”

Mace frowned at him.  “Don’t refer to people that way.”

“Okay.  Horn-headed bastard then.”

Mace shrugged.  Good enough.  “I also meant Jinn.  Call him Qui-Gon or something, don’t call people Master.”  _It’ll make you uncomfortable,_ he didn’t say.  Of course, it would probably make Jinn smug as all fuck, but whatever it was an easy price to pay.  He straightened up, glaring at the guards and random people currently staring.  “Important Jedi business, move along,” he told them, and alarm sprouted on their faces as they hurried away.  Excellent.

“What now, Mace?”

“As it’s getting late, we should get you settled in to my Padawan room.”  Which…would be a trick, since it had stood empty since Depa moved out over 10 years earlier and was probably quite dusty.

 

Depa herself was waiting outside his apartment when they arrived, leaning on the door.  “Have you forgotten something, Master-mine?”  Amusement colored her tone.

He was caught up on his Council paperwork.  Yoda hadn’t asked him for anything.  He had gotten this year’s booster hypos.  There were no waiting comm calls when he turned it back on after leaving the Senate building in their 'orderly' manner.  Mace made a face.  Was it the kriffing Archivist again, asking for a bigger budget to spend on acquisitions?

“Nnnnnooooo,” he said very slowly, trying to subtly push Depa off and away from the door.

She raised an eyebrow.  "Nothing, Master?  Not, say, clothes for my new brother-Padawan?"

Mace stared at her, and then realization hit.  _Oh shit._   At the same time, Anakin's eyes widened and he gasped, "I get _clothes?"_

There was an awkward silence for a couple moments as both Mace and Depa tried to process that.

"Of...course you get clothes, Padawan," Mace said slowly.  "You will need multiple sets as well, for both formal and informal occasions."

" _Wizard_ ," he breathed.  "I get more than one set of clothes!"

Depa met Mace's eyes, shock meeting shock.  "Riiiight.  Well, Master, I'm going to go order those from the quartermaster and be back soon.  I've already set the sheets on his bed and cleaned up a bit.  Also, Padawan Kenobi gave me the bag of Anakin's things they'd stashed in their quarters.  I'll just be back soon."

"Force bless you, Depa," Mace said fervently and she nodded and left.  "Come on, Padawan, let's go and get you settled in."

Mace had never felt the need to have elaborate decorations in his rooms, and he didn't have the time or attention for plants like Jinn, so his quarters tended to be sparse.  He looked at them with new eyes as Anakin gazed around--his apartment was unusually bare even by Jedi standards, but it was clean and well-kept.  Of course, this was due to the small amount of time he spent in it, and the rooms barely held an imprint of his presence.  Still, the relative quality of his things was highlighted by the threadbare sack sitting on the low table by the seating area, which must be everything Anakin brought from Tattooine.

He suddenly felt like he was starting to understand exactly what Anakin's status as a former slave meant, and he didn't like it--neither his Padawan's lack of much more than the clothes on his back, nor Mace's own ignorance of the situation and how to deal with it.

He showed Anakin around, and led them to the smaller bedroom last.  Anakin looked astonished.

"This is all mine?"

"Well, yes."  Mace tried not to fidget, honestly he did, but Anakin's earnest appreciation for very small things made him uncomfortable.  How much less could he have had, that the austere life of a Jedi was something to marvel over?

"Wow.  This is way bigger than my room back home--I mean, on Tattooine."  And there it was again.  Mace eyed the room, which really wasn't that large.  He was interrupted by a growl from Anakin's stomach.  Immediately, his Padawan froze, clutching at it and hunching.

"Oh _kriff_ , you haven't eaten, have you?"

Mace proceeded to put together a quick late-meal for them, and realized he was hungry himself.  He'd have to restock the kitchen at some point; it was pretty empty.  And while that may be suitable for a Jedi Master and Councillor, his Padawan would need food, and thus he should keep more around.  Anakin would not starve again, not on his watch.

 

Depa came back while Mace was in the middle of trying to teach Anakin to meditate.  As a rather drunk Obi-Wan had once confided in him, it was turning out to be difficult.  Anakin just couldn't stay still and concentrate for long without something distracting him, be it his itchy nose or the Force itself.  His old Padawan's appearance, then, was a sign to quit now and work on this some other time.

Of course, the moment they stopped attempting meditation his brat was yawning his head off.  And with a quiet but heartfelt “ _fuck_ ” Mace remembered Anakin was only nine.  And had every right to be sleepy.  And was apparently obsessed with the shower and really wanted to take one.  He felt like that was another thing he should feel strange about, but just told his Padawan to pick up a change of clothes and hop in.

“You realize you can’t leave him alone much like you did me, right Master?” Depa spoke lowly to attempt not to reach young ears.  Mace sighed.

“I’m starting to get that feeling,” he admitted.  Anakin was not—clingy, per se, but definitely watched him carefully and didn’t seem to want to be out of the room from him.  He remembered a much older Skywalker suffering from Attachment issues and sighed.  “He’s probably afraid I’m going to disappear on him or abandon him.”

Depa nodded thoughtfully.  “Do you think there’s anything we can do about that?  Maybe find a piece of home to make him feel safer?”

Mace shrugged.  “I don’t know what that might be.  He left just about everything with his mother, you saw the small sack that—What?”  He looked at her blankly, and she buried her face in her hands.

“Master,” she groaned, pitying amusement in her voice, “Anakin is probably worried about his mother.”

“Oh.”  That seemed…remarkably simple as an answer.  “Wait—OH.  _Kriff_.”  Yeah, that would do it.  Hadn’t he heard something about raiders and her death, in the future?

His lovely former Padawan, intelligent Depa possessed of two hands, looked at him, just barely keeping from laughing.  “I’ll pack a bag and head to Tattooine, Master.  Someone needs to make sure she’s free and headed somewhere pleasant.”

“Sure.  I’ll sign off on some funds, try to not get swindled.  Speak with Qui-Gon Jinn, he was the one who bought Anakin.”  They both grimaced at the thought of slavery and having to buy sentients’ freedom, a reaction Mace was sure he would never lose.  Patting him on the shoulder, Depa bid him goodnight and left.

The shower wasn’t running, so he ducked his head into the Padawan room and found Anakin, asleep sideways on the bed.  One hand curled around a set of newly-acquired sleep clothes.  There was something vaguely endearing about the way he hadn’t even gotten both boots off before passing out.  Mace tugged off the other boot and rearranged his kid on the bed, gently teasing the clothes out and dropping them on the nightstand.  He draped a blanket over Anakin, remembering he was likely to get cold.

Out in the living room with the lights off, Mace took a moment to wipe a hand over his face and gaze out at the late evening traffic.  The Force thrummed gently with the contented buzz of a sleeping Padawan, and—well, he’d missed that.  He had forgotten how much he missed having a kid to take care of and teach, to remind him by simply existing that Mace should take care of his own health and well-being.

In the morning, he would need to check the newsfeeds to see what their sneaking about had wrought.  For the moment though, he soaked in the peace and quiet, knowing the next confrontation would lead to more questions over his “strange” actions.  He could avoid all that though; his Padawan would deserve a reward for a job well done.

Mace wondered if Anakin liked ice cream.


End file.
